


With My Pride Upright

by bachlava



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bachlava/pseuds/bachlava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gretchen and Claire accept an invitation from Noah Bennet. (Follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/154797">Teacups</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	With My Pride Upright

**Author's Note:**

> Canon through about the first half of season four.

Taking the Metrorail into the city really shouldn't have been very hard; Gretchen had done it a million times. Today she'd even written the directions down in case she managed to forget, and she sort of chanted them to herself as she walked to the station near campus: switch to the yellow line at King Street and then to the red at Gallery Park-Chinatown, get off at Dupont Circle, take the first station exit and it's three blocks east, on the left. She didn't realize how weird it must seem, some girl repeating an itinerary under her breath, until she noticed a few people pointedly not looking at her as they waited on the platform. Then she shut up and recited it in her head.

It was a hot afternoon, and she felt queasy as the train lurched. She almost wished she could just throw up and get it over with; at least that way she'd feel better afterwards. The shadowy little corner of her mind where the old bulimia lurked supplied  _Go ahead; you'll be in control._  Okay, she needed to shut down that line of thought.

She focused on the things she did have control over just then. There were a few of them, right? She'd spent forever deciding what to wear, and she'd folded a different outfit into her oversize purse in case they wound up going someplace fancy for dinner. The issue now was the purse itself, which was uncomfortable to carry and stuck out so much, now that it was out of fashion, that she'd probably get stopped by transit police on suspicion of terrorism.  _Now you're really being ridiculous._

She sat down and fished out her makeup bag to fix whatever smudges and hair problems had happened since she left the dorm an hour ago. There weren't as many as she expected, although just seeing looking in the compact mirror made her wish she'd worn something different. She looked like some undergraduate hippie chick who liked granola and burned incense and listed to a lot of Dar Williams. Which of course she was, but she really wished she looked more respectable right now. And she hated Dar Williams, but that wasn't the point.

The distraction of brushing her hair into a glorified ponytail almost made her miss her stop, and she pushed her way out of the train at the last possible second, miniature hairbrush in hand and barrette temporarily between her teeth. On street level, she sneaked into a Starbucks restroom and finished getting herself in order. Then someone knocked, and there wasn't much Gretchen could do besides go to the apartment. She'd be early – that was the downside of allowing time for possible delays – but maybe that would demonstrate punctuality or earnestness. She could hope, anyway. She'd never had one of these conversations with someone's parents before, and she had no idea what to expect. Or, okay, she had too many ideas of what to expect, and most of them were ones she didn't like.

But she went into the building anyway, feeling like something between a zombie and someone on the way to their execution. That was a horrible comparison to make, when she thought about it; she also wasn't sure whether zombies actually felt anything. Or whether they would, if they existed. She knocked on the apartment door and immediately wondered if she was if she should have brought flowers or wine or something. She wasn't sure what age you were supposed to start bringing host gifts to your friends' parents – as soon as you were legally an adult, or not while you were still in school? Maybe Claire would know.

Before she could think it over, the door opened. “Oh. Hi, Mr. Bennet.”

“Gretchen. It's good to see you.” He motioned her inside. “Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of water would be great.”

“Good. Why don't you make yourself at home while I get one for both of us?”

“Okay. Thanks.” She sat in the chair she thought Mr. Bennet would be the least likely to want for himself and tried to look calm or likable or whatever. Claire had told her on the phone that her dad had been really great, but just because he'd put up a good face for his own daughter, Gretchen was pretty sure, didn't guarantee he'd be thrilled with  _her_. The man always looked like he'd stepped off a spaceship from Planet Eisenhower. She could him imagine him thinking in terms of sex and sodomy, plus whatever lesbian deviancy of Gretchen's had corrupted his daughter.  _Don't think about sex. Don't even think about kissing._  Maybe he'd blame her for ruining Claire's life. Then again, if he did, he'd probably just put lots of arsenic in her water. 

She was getting paranoid again, and she needed to relax somehow. Right, calming strategies were definitely in order. _Think about flowers. Think about kittens. Recite the periodic table: hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon, nitrogen –_

“I forgot to refill the ice-cube tray,” Mr. Bennet said, sounding apologetic as he broke her concentration. “Hopefully it's at least cool.”

“I'm sure it's fine,” Gretchen said, setting the glass he offered on the table. “Thanks, Mr. Bennet.”

“You're welcome.” He drank half of his in one gulp and quirked an eyebrow at her. “I didn't poison it, you know.”

“Of course not!” She'd definitely said that too quickly; there was a second where he looked like he was wondering if she'd actually considered the possibility. Gretchen really didn't think that was anything close to a good start. “So. Um. Claire's still catching up on sleep, I take it?”

“Yes, she is. Tucked in and probably dreaming about the Dutch renaissance.”

“Hair curled around her finger and everything?” Wow, that was a stupid thing to bring up; Gretchen wanted to kick herself. As if the universe wanted to prove a point, she heard the shower turn on, although that wasn't very encouraging: Claire took as long as Gretchen to get ready, if not longer. “Let me guess, you've got a million pictures of little-girl Claire all tucked in with her teddy bears.”

“I don't, actually. The albums got destroyed in the house fire in Texas.”

“Oh, God. I'm really sorry. That was such a dumb thing – ”

“No, it's all right... Sandra's rounded up copies of some of them from her friends. I just haven't... well, it doesn't matter.” He ran a hand over his hair. “You know, Gretchen, it occurred to me today that I've never heard you or Claire mention your family. You're staying here this summer, aren't you?”

“Yeah. I've got an internship with my botany professor.”

“Claire was telling me about it the other day... I think I know more about the internship than I do about your parents.”

Gretchen took three sips of water, which was a lame way of buying time, but the only one she could think of. “There haven't been any daytime-talk-show issues. And I've had advantages a lot of kids would give anything for. I don't want to sound ungrateful.” Not sounding ungrateful was always good. “But we're not really close. I don't think anyone in the extended family really ever has been.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” 

“They're not awful or anything. We just don't understand each other that well.”

“You mean they don't understand you.” His tone was soft and not accusatory, which surprised Gretchen enough that she didn't try to go back and sugarcoat. “And I'm guessing they think you're just going through a phase.”

“The same phase I've been going through since junior high, probably.” 

“That's one hell of a long phase.”

“I can kind of see why. It's not like I didn't try to act normal or be normal, a whole bunch of times.”

A pained, kind of distant expression that came across his face, but he didn't try to parse her words out loud. He just said, after a minute, “Can I ask you a question that probably isn't any of my business?” Gretchen nodded, although she didn't want to. “When were you sure?”

Okay, the sheer surprise warranted honesty. “There wasn't any one moment when it was suddenly crystal clear... Around the beginning of eleventh grade I realized I wasn't even fooling myself anymore.”

“But you still felt like you had to fo- like you had to pretend for other people.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.” She looked at her hands; her tree ring had a tarnish spot that she should fix. “It's okay. Overall. I mean, it definitely could have been worse.”

“I'm well aware that it could have been much worse,” Mr. Bennet said. “That doesn't mean that it shouldn't have been better.”

Claire re-emerged before Gretchen could think of what to say. “Hey. Hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too long.”

“No, Gretchen and I were just chatting... How's my sleeping beauty?”

“Doing great. All rested up and definitely ready for whatever it is we were planning on doing.”

“Dinner. I'm leaving the choice of restaurants to you girls.”

“I'm fine with whatever,” Gretchen said quickly. That was a lie: the specter of the old eating disorder was still haunting the edges of her mind from earlier, which meant she wouldn't wind up being fine with anything. But it wouldn't help things to be anything other than polite, and apart from that it was an issue she really didn't want to discuss in front of Claire's dad. Especially not now, although she wished she'd thought to ask to do a sightseeing trip instead of agreeing to dinner.

“...you with us, Gretchen?” came Mr. Bennet's voice, and she realized she'd zoned out. “Sorry, just off in the clouds for a second,” she said.

“Japanese sound all right to you?” Claire asked. “Dad's getting sick of it, but it's kind of my comfort food.”

“I'm not getting sick of it,” Mr. Bennet said. “Tell you what, though. There's a place that's nicer than the one in this building, if you don't mind a walk to get there.”

“That sounds great. The walk too.”

It did turn out to be a good idea. It was a little cooler now, and all the old buildings' window boxes and city plantings were a palette of flowers this time of year. It was nice. Gretchen could live with nice. She and Claire shared a sideways glance and started holding hands after a few blocks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Bennet swallow heavily. He looked like he was keeping a sharper on eye on everyone around them – and Claire, she realized, wouldn't even be able to see that without craning her neck to look in the first place. 

They managed to get a private room at the restaurant, maybe because Mr. Bennet asked for it in Japanese. Gretchen told him to go ahead and order for her. A silence unsettled her again, and she said, “I love those folding screens they've got standing up. What are they called in Japanese, Mr. Bennet?”

He glanced up from his menu. “That kind?  _Shoji_. The ones here are all made-in-U.S.A., though.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because they don't have Hello Kitty on them.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm exaggerating. Very slightly.”

“Maybe we should get some for the dorm,” Claire said.

“You can put one in your room, since we'll have singles next year,” Gretchen told her.

Claire nodded. “Sounds good. You know, I guess it's a little strange to start off as roommates and then...”

“It's incredibly strange, but at least we learned how to fight at the beginning of things,” Gretchen said, and looked at Mr. Bennet. “But I bet the last thing your dad wants to hear is us talking about our relationship.”

“You can talk about whatever you want. I'm just glad you learned how to fight before not knowing how could get you into trouble.”

“ _I'm_  not really in the mood to sit around talking about my relationship,” Claire said. “But I'm going to miss you like crazy when I'm in Costa Verde this summer.”

Gretchen asked, “Which one of us?” at the same time Mr. Bennet said, “Well, absence makes the heart grow fonder. It'll be a learning experience.”

“Both of you. And you say everything will be a learning experience.”

“Most things are. Besides, it'll be good for you to spend some time with your mom and Lyle. I know you haven't talked to them yet – ”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if you had, you would have mentioned it to me before anything else.”. He reached across the table and squeezed her hands. “You don't have anything to worry about, Claire-bear.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking at the tablecloth.

“And if you want to lean on me, you know you can call me. Anytime, day or night.” He smiled and tickled the palms of her hands until she smiled back. “Gretchen, I expect you to be a regular visitor while she's out of town, all right?”

She felt herself blushing. “You're way too nice.”

“Sweet flattery... Just come on by anytime.”

“Are you going to get on her case if she doesn't?” Claire asked.

“There's at least some chance that I might... I do mean it, Gretchen. If you want to get away from the dorm – or if you want to talk about – anything at all – ”

“You're sure you wouldn't rather enjoy not having any kids in your hair?”

“No, I'll miss it. You'll keep a lonely old man company once in a while, won't you?”

She quirked a grin. “I'll come over if you promise to tell me some embarrassing stories about when Claire was growing up, okay?”

“All the ones she won't tell,” Mr. Bennet said. “And you can start tormenting her with them the minute she gets back.”

Claire groaned. “If you do, I won't even let you hold my hand until Christmas.”

“Yes, you will,” Gretchen said. “You'll be too grateful to me for keeping your dad out of trouble.” 

And she thought, as the tea arrived and they set about serving it, that she had a good chance of being right.

**Author's Note:**

> Title credit: Sinéad O'Connor, "Daddy I'm Fine."
> 
>  
> 
>  _Heroes_ is all NBC's; no claim or commerce here.


End file.
